Wyth purple colour the floures enhewed,
In dyvers knottes wyth many one ful blue,
The gentyll gelofer his odoure renued
Wyth sundry herbes replete wyth vertue:
Amonge these floures as I dyd ensue,
Castynge my syght sodaynly so ferre,
Over a toure I sawe a flambynge sterre.
Towarde this toure as I rode nere and nere, 3000 I behelde the rocke of merveylous altytude, On whych it stode that quadrante did appere, Made all of stele wonderous fortytude, Gargeylde wyth beestes in sundry symylytude; And many turrettes above the toures hye, With ymages was set full marveylously.
Towarde thys toure forth on my way
Tyll that I came to a myghty fortresse,
Where I saw hange a merveylous instrumente,
Wyth a shelde and helmet before the entres:
I knewe nothynge therof the perfytnes,
But at aventure the instrument I toke,
And blewe so loude that all the toure I shoke.
Whan the porter herde the hedyous sounde
Of my ryght lusty and stormy blast,
That made the walles therof to redounde,
Full lyke a knyght that was nothinge agast,
Towarde the gate gave hym selfe to hast,
And opened it, and asked my name,
And fro whence I came, to certyfy the same.
3. My name, quod I, is Graunde Amoure;
Of late I came fro the toure of Doctryne,
Where I attayned all the hygh honoure
Of the seven scyences, me to enlumyne;
And frome thence I dyd determyne
Forthe to travayle to thys toure of Chyvalry,
Where I have blowen thys blast so sodeynly.
Whan he herd thys, ryght gentylly he sayd:
Unto thys toure ye must resorte by ryght
For to renue that hath be longe decayd,
3030 The flour of Chyvalry, with your hole delyght.
Come on your way, it draweth toward nyghte.
And therwith all he ledde me to his warde,
Me to repose in pleasaunt due saufgard.
After the travayle my selfe for to ease,
I did there reste in all goodly wyse,
And slept right well without any disease,
Till on the morow the sonne did aryse;
Than up I rose, as was my perfyte guyse,
And made me redy into the courte to go,
With my verlet and greyhoundes also.
The gentil porter, named Stedfastnes,
Into the basse courte on my way he brought,
Where stode a toure of mervaylous highnes,
That al of jasper ful wonderly wrought,
As ony man can printe in his thought;
And foure ymages above the toure there were,
On horsebacke, armed, and every one a spere.
These ymages were made ful curiously,
Wyth theyr horses of the stele so fyne,
3050 And eche of them, in theyr places sundry,
About were sette that clerely dyd shyne,
Lyke Dyane clere in her spere celestyne;
And under eche horse there was, ful pryvely,
A great whele made by craftly Geometry,
Wyth many cogges, unto whiche were tyed Dyvers cordes that in the horses holowe To every joynte full wonderly applyed; Whan the wheles wente the horses dyd folowe, To trotte and galop both even and morowe, 306 Brekynge theyr speres and coude them dyscharge, Partynge asonder for to turney at large.
OF THE MARVEYLOUS ARGUMENT BETWENE MARS AND
FORTUNE.
BESYDE this toure of olde foundacion
There was a temple strongly edefyed;
To the high honoure and reputacyon
Of the mighty Mars it was so fortefyed:
And for to know what it signifyed
I entred in, and sawe of golde so pure
Of worthy Mars the mervaylous pycture.
There was depaynted all about the wall 3. The grete destruccion of the cite of Troye; And the noble actes do reygne memoryall
Of the worthy Hector that was all theyr joye.
His dolorus death was herde to occoye;
And so whan Hector was cast all downe,
The hardy Troylus was moost hyghe of renowne.
And as I cast my syght so asyde,
Beholdynge Mars how wonderly he stode,
On a whele top with a lady of pryde
Haunced aboute, I thought nothing but good,
But that she had two faces in one hode;
Yet I kneled adowne and made mine oryson,
To doughty Mars, wyth grete devocyon.
Sayenge O Mars! O god of the warre!
The gentyll lodesterre of an hardy herte,
Dystyll adowne thy grace from so farre
To cause all fere from me to astert:
That in the felde I may ryght well subverte
The hedyus monsters, and winne the victory
Of the sturdy giauntes with famous chyvalry.
O prynce of honour and of worthy fame!
O noble knightes of olde antiquite!
O redouted courage, the cause of theyr name,
Whose worthy actes fame caused to be
In bokes wrytten, as ye maye well se!
So gyve me grace ryght well to secure
The power of fame that shall long endure.
I thought me past al chyldly ygnoraunce,
I thought that Venus might nothyng avaunce 3100 Her strength against me with her lusty courage;
My wytte I thought had suche avauntage,
That it should rule both Venus and Cupyde:
But, alas for wo! for all my sodayne pryde!
Whan that Phebus entred was in Gemine,
Toward the Crab takynge ascencyon,
At the tyme of the great solempnite
From heven above of Goddes descencyon;
In a grete temple with hole entencyon
As I went walkyng my selfe to and fro,
3/10 Full sodaynly Venus wrought me such wo.
For as I cast than my syght all alofte,
I sawe Venus in beaute so clere,
Which caused Cupide wyth his darte so softe,
To wounde my herte wyth fervent love so dere;
Her lovynge countenaunce so hyghe dyd appere,
That it me ravyshed wyth a sodayne thought,
Alas for wo! it vayled me ryght nought.
To gyve audyence unto the melody
Of waytes and organs that were at the fest,
3/2 Love had me wounded so sore inwardly,
What was to do I knewe not the best.
Replete wyth sorowe and devoyde of rest,
Sythen the tyme that she my hert soo wounded,
My joy and pryde she hath full lowe confounded.
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